This segment of the contest is important for both the voters and the readers. To communicate with thoughtful responses requires focused thinking which develops skills in a person's writing and public speaking.

Wormtongue, the Archive Editor wants the stories posted in separate posts so he can link onto them for the archive.

Timeline:

Voting and commenting for the "I Can't Make You Love Me" Flash Fiction Contest begins today and will continue through Saturday June 9, 2018.

The results will be posted after the voting.

Rules For Commenting:

01. If you have something unfavorable to say about a story, make it constructive so the author can benefit from your viewpoint and insight.

02. Never say anything negative about the authors themselves.

03. Praise and encourage the authors with any element that is worthy of it. Let them know they did good.

To Vote:

Send me a pm (private message) by clicking on my name on this post and then click the words private message on the following screen. Type in the name of the story you liked the best and click submit.

Off-worlders sometimes call Ross 5 ‘Seattle’ because it rains all the time but it’s not like a downpour, it’s a just constant misty rain. The moon is used as a jump-station so visitors often think that there’s a glitch somewhere, that an environmental system went nuts and the IT people will probably fix it soon…but it’s not like that. The constant steady misty rain is good for the slugs, and that’s why there’s a colony here to begin with...because of the slugs. There is one gift shop on this moon and it sells tee-shirts saying, ‘Ross Five: 60 Billion Slugs can’t be wrong’.

The rain is good for the slugs but bad for the humans. Take Charlie Willson for instance – great guy really, but he stayed here too long. Most humans sign on for six months or a year but Charlie was down here for three years – which is a long time in the constant mist, even with the free supply of cubes to boost your moods.

This moon is a great place to get away from the electronic noise of the other worlds. The constant rain interferes with the transplants in your head, messing up incoming signals, so after a week or two people just turn their transplants off.

But Charlie didn’t come here to get away from the implant in his head, he came here to get away from her.

I remember this on time when I was in Charlie’s living-unit after our shift. We had been pushing cubes into our neck-ports all afternoon, just passing the time. We liked cubing together. It helped us mellow out and not think about anything.

“I have something I want to show you,” he said suddenly, getting up from the couch. It surprised me a little because he was never mysterious, but this time he was guarded. “You can read, right?”

“You mean like the codes for watering the slugs?” I asked.

“No, I mean like a letter.” He was miffed as he looked down on me, which wasn’t like Charlie at all.

“Oh sure. Why? Do you have a letter Charlie? Can’t you read?”

“No I can’t read,” he said bluntly. “I just never got the hand of it.” He went into the tiny room where his cot was and I could hear him digging through a trunk he keeps in the corner, so I spoke a little louder. “Who sent YOU a letter?”

When he stepped back into the room he was holding a postal coin. “She did,” he told me softly. “She sent a letter.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, feeling like a heel. He handed it to me and it started to glow right away, ready to be opened and read.

“Even if I could read it I wouldn’t want to,” he told me. “I’m too afraid of what she might say. I’d rather have someone read it and then tell me what it says, in case I need moral support.” I finally understood that this postal coin was probably the thing he valued most on this moon. “But whatever it says – just give it to me straight, don’t sugar-coat it.”

“Sure Charlie, sure. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I know you wouldn’t, Nadia. That’s why I asked you.”

I put my thumb in the center of the coin, pressing it in the center, and the letter flashed up, hanging there in midair.

“It says, ‘Dear Charlie,’” I started. Suddenly he grabbed the coin out of my hands.

“Come on, Charlie. What the hell?”

“I can’t do it, Nadia. Think about it: right now I can always believe that she wrote this letter saying that she had finally decided she loved me – after everything I gave her and after all the times I told her I loved her and begged her to love me too. Right now, if I don’t read it, I can keep the coin and pretend that she loves me too. In spite of the fact that you can’t force someone to love you, I can always believe that she learned to love me in spite of who I am and in spite of who she is.” He looked down at the red mud on his clothes and on his worn-out boots. “Right now, she loves me. If I ever found out different, it would kill me. It would just kill me.”

I put my hand on his shoulder while he squeezed the coin as tight as he could. “I get it, Charlie, I get it.”

He put the coin on the floor beside his foot and we both sank back into the cushions – the same way three generations of slug-workers had before us in that tiny functional room – and we cubed again before falling asleep, which is as good as people like us can expect.

Later that week Charlie spaced out while working the slugs and picked one up and ate it. He told me once that he had always wanted to eat one just to feel their little spine crack between his teeth. I guess he forgot that slugs are poisonous until they’ve been detoxified. The off-worlders love slugs marinated in a liquid that sifts out the poison.

Charlie fell into a coma that he never came out of. He never knew that HR contacted HER back on Earth and she paid to have him transported back so she could sit by his side and take care of him until his body finally shut down for good.

But somewhere deep inside me, I want to believe that even in his comatose state, maybe he smelled her perfume and knew she was there, at last. Maybe. At least maybe he died knowing there was still a tiny possibility left that she had learned to love him.

While it’s certainly true you can’t force someone to love you, it is also unfortunately impossible to convince someone they are worthy of being loved.

The End

Last edited by Jim Statton on June 03, 2018, 08:24:33 AM, edited 1 time in total.

My heart pounded. I could hear her moving about in the next room. As I sat on my pillow, I could see the top of her beautiful head through the three diamond shaped windows in my door. As she came near, I knew she was there to see me. My body began to shake uncontrollably. My stub of a tail wagged at the sight of her.

I sniffed my wet nose to be more presentable. But something was wrong. Her beautiful face was swollen and wet with tears. One side of her face was already turning blue.

"They've been fighting again," I thought. I did not even hear the yelling this time. I must have been sleeping. Sometimes with the sounds of the television and music it is hard to distinguish what is going on in the main house as I am in my own room, the garage. It is spacious, and converted into a den/family room, “Diesel’s room,” they call it. So evidently, I am Diesel.

She held me in her arms as we sat on my pillow together, her face to my face. I could tell she was in pain. I kissed her cheek. She smiled through her tears, so I kissed her face over and over again until she almost looked happy and care free like she use to be.

"Oh Diesel, I don't know what to do. I promised that I would never leave you," she whispered to me. She stroked my head until I was completely mesmerized. I wanted to put my paw around her and tell her it would be okay. But I knew she was in trouble. "I can't stay, and I can't take you with me. I don't even know if I can even get away, but I've got to try. Maybe I can stay with momma for a while, till I can get on my feet. Being out in the country would give me a chance to think."

I couldn't understand all of the words she was saying but I knew she was leaving. My eyes filled with tears, but I did not want her to see me cry.

"Baby, please don't go," I said. "Please take me with you."

I knew her name was Baby because I always heard Bill, with the cowboy hat say, "Baby, get me a beer. Or , where's my dinner, Baby?"

Suddenly, we heard a truck door slam. It was Bill pulling out of the drive way.

"He is gone to the roadhouse for a drink!" she said. "I won't be here when he gets back. Oh Diesel, I wish I could take you, but momma just doesn't like dogs, especially big ones. I'm sorry. I love you." She kissed me on the head and got up.

“Baby. Where are you going?" I said. "Momma will like me. Look, I won't take up too much space." I curled up into a tiny ball. But I was alone. I looked around my room. It all seemed so empty now.

Then, I had an idea. I ran outside through the dog flap in the door. I am not much of a digger, but I remembered there was already a spot that I had been working on by the fence. Not that I was trying to get out or anything, it's just something I do to pass the time.

I could see Baby in the driveway getting ready to leave, so I dug faster and harder. Dirt was flying all over me, the sidewalk and rose bushes. Once I was free to the other side, I ran to her car. I didn't see her but the hatch was still open, so I jumped inside and waited.

Soon, I heard her car keys jingle. She came out wearing a ball cap and glasses and make up to cover her bruises. She shut the hatch without even looking inside. As we headed down the road, the night air rushed in through the open windows. I didn't know if she would be mad at me for tagging along. But I knew in my heart that she needed me as much as I needed her, so I just sat there very quietly.

Then the night air stopped. Everything stopped. I spun around the hatch and chased my tail. “Where is she? When is she coming back?” I whimpered. “Was she gone forever, again?”

Then I could see her walking towards the car, with some chips and a drink. She didn't see me at first, so I barked and stood up in her seat, and wagged my tail as she opened the door.

“Diesel?” she said. “What the ..How did you?” She looked toward the back of the vehicle and saw where I had flattened the back seat and pushed through from the hatch.

She got in and hugged me and began to cry, but she looked happy. I put my paw on her arm and licked her face. I shook the dirt off me so that I would look my best.

“Diesel," she laughed and brushed herself off. She offered me her energy drink with a scary dragon on the can and some barbeque chips. I did the sniff test and told her that I would have to pass. Then, she said the drive through was still open at Burger Chef and asked me if I would like some stackers with cheese. I licked my lips which meant “absolutely.”

"You know, boy, I was just about to give up on love forever, but now... I think I just might reconsider.”

I could not understand her words exactly, which seemed muffled as she started the engine. But I knew what she meant. She loves me and we will be together forever.

“I think momma is just gunna love you.”

The End

Last edited by Jim Statton on June 03, 2018, 08:24:48 AM, edited 1 time in total.

A stately home in Texas where a CEO of a large oil company and his wife go through there nightly soap opera of a marriage.

"Max, can we talk?"

Max looks up from his mahogany desk centered in the parlor, a place for doing business at night after leaving his oil empire managed from a thirty story high rise.

"What is it Rose?" He was perturbed from the interruption.

"I'm your wife and you won't touch me. You treat me like I'm some kind of a tramp. You were the one who asked me to get information from that businessman who had dirt on you."

Anger boiled up inside him as he spoke. “Rose...I didn't ask you to fool around with him?”

She thought for a moment and then looked up as she spoke, "Well, you didn't ask me not to." She blinked her eyes several times with an innocent look on her face.

"I just wanted you to talk with him, maybe flirt a bit." Max was stating the obvious.

"I flirted, just like you asked me to."

"Why didn't you stop there!"

"I wanted to make sure he was getting it, the flirting. I didn't want to be too subtle."

"Well Rose...you certainly gave it to him. And now I'm the laughing stock in the oil business."

He snatched his file folders from off the desk and began stomping out of the room. As he got to the doorway going into the foyer she called out to him, "Don't you want to know about the really bad thing I did?"

He slowly looked around and said gruffly, "What is it now Rose?"

"You know the oil man who is in competition with you, John Worthington? Well"...she talked mindlessly like she was sharing recipes with neighbor wives not noticing the growing fury in her husband’s face..."He was here a few weeks ago."

"And..." Max said anticipating the worst.

"Well, he was here and I was sooo needy Max and of course I was drunk when he arrived and all he wanted was a look in your file cabinet...the protected files...you know what I’m talking about Max?"

He was in a surrealistic mindset.

She continued speaking, "Well, I gave him what he wanted and he was so nice (she became intrepid and winced while she spoke) we...sort of...did it!"

When he allowed what she said to settle on him, a volcanic eruption of rage set in and he shouted, "You did what!"

Rose was a little fidgety. "Well, you know."

Shaking from rage, Max stood there looking at her and said holding in his indignation. "No Rose, I don't know. Exactly, what did you do?"

Not wanting to say out loud, she waved her hand across his desk like she was a game show model.

"ON MY DESK!"

With an impudent face she replied, "Yeah."

"Yeah, what do you mean yeah?" He turned once again to leave his home before she uttered another word but he couldn't move fast enough.

"There was the bug."

Max said without turning around, "Hire an exterminator!"

"Okay Max. But don't you want to know about the listening device?"

He looked down at the floor and hoped he had not heard what he heard. "What listening device Rose?"

"The one I planted in your office for Mr. Worthington."

He turned around slack-jawed and looked into her face.

She continued, "Well, he was going to blab to you about us doing it, so I did what he wanted.” She tried to make her husband see things the way she saw them. “I didn't want any insignificant thing to ruin what we have."

Max walked out the door. Nothing phased him now. He closed the door behind him as he heard his wife say in a muffled tone, "Are you coming home for dinner?"

He took three steps away from the door and dropped to the ground...dead.

The End

Last edited by Jim Statton on June 03, 2018, 08:25:07 AM, edited 1 time in total.

The sky was overcast and it had been that way since early that morning. Then, when the funeral procession started moving from the church to the cemetery, a faint irksome rain began falling to the water soaked ground.

Weather always seemed to align with the pitiful scene when it came to death, Vsevolod considered.

The 40-year-old tall man, wrapped in his dark overcoat, tailgated the many people who followed behind the coffin, and they walked for a while once they passed through the wrought-iron gates of the graveyard that had been flung open to allow the huge crowd go in. There was a young blonde-haired, beautiful woman named Nadezhda, who strutted with her parents behind the coffin, along with another family made up of two senior citizens who were the parents of the dead man they all felt pitied. At times, the woman herself seemed to look over her shoulder and Vsevolod knew that she had seen him early on.

This didn’t surprise the man. How could it? Nadezhda had to know about what had really happened, there was no doubt about it. Not that her knowledge about the truth would make any difference, of course.

The story of that young woman was heart-rending, many would say. After divorcing Vsevolod, she had found another lover, a salesman, who had moved in with her, in her new house downtown. But that man had died unexpectedly one night, because of an assault by a thief who had tried to steal his wallet. Or so the policemen had reported.

But this hadn’t stopped that woman, nor had it prevented her from doing her best to be happy again, though with another partner. This was very strong of her, showing that Nadezhda obviously refused to allow dejection and despair to get the better of her. People thought of her next love interest - after the second one died - as a sort of handsome, rich businessman - but his luck suddenly seemed to run out as one sad morning his car had an accident and was violently destroyed with that unfortunate driver still inside. A very dreadful occurrence, once again mostly unexpected.

And then it was time for her last lover to take his turn. Regrettably, the graying shop owner had inadvertently fallen down a hole in the ground on one rainy day…a day not too different from this sad morning that seemed to keep spreading a deep melancholy around. The sensation of loss was unmistakable across the many burial recesses and tombs situated throughout the cemetery.

This I did for you, my dear. To win your love back… Vsevolod made a face while silently whispering to himself without directly looking at the rest of the crowd. So, why won’t you understand?

You can try to have other lovers, you can get married again and try to start a new life that you hope will be happy and pleasant, a life that will finally let you put all of your past pains and losses behind you. But you must know that I’ll never stop, I’ll never surrender…

I’ll always murder all of your new lovers, and they will all pass away because of my intervention! No one will ever be sure about what happened, and no evidence will ever convict me. Because I'm wise, I’m experienced and I also know how to do what has to be done without anyone spotting me, of course. You should never have divorced me, my dear…

The rain kept falling to the ground, drenching the many shrubs and followers, releasing the humidity that entered the bony joints of the people in attendance, increasing their sense of despair and their overall uneasiness.

‘Why don’t you see that I am the only legitimate lover for you? I am the only man whose love is unmatched, my attraction to you is so deep that you will never find anyone else better than me…’ Vsevolod told himself. ‘How many others must I secretly get rid of before you reach the same conclusion? - before you change your mind in the end?’

Then, the tall man raised his head again and he wasn’t surprised when he saw the same inquisitive eyes of the woman he knew so well. Her angry stare just seemed to scream, “I know it was you! I know you keep killing all the other men I like, that I love…”

But, he already had a reply in his mind to those unspoken charges. His answer was easy… ‘My dear, you know me all too well. However, it’s you that are wrong…there’s no way you can stop me. You’ll understand this in time and you’ll accept your destiny. You’ll come back to me, one day…’

And then he kept repeating to himself, almost as if he was whispering a prayer… ‘I love you so much, why don’t you see it? Why can’t you accept that we belong together?’

Suddenly there was a bolt of lightning that seemed to tear the sky apart. It appeared to completely clear the dark overcast sky for a very short time, bringing light to the whole ghastly setting of the crowd who stood near the grave, illuminating where the coffin lay at the moment. Anyway, sad to say, it still didn’t bring a ray of hope or any chance of enlightenment to the dark, bloody thoughts that resided in the disturbed man’s mind…

‘I know you’ll try to find someone else, that you’ll be searching for another man in your life…’ a pensive Vsevolod nodded. ‘But just know this: whoever he happens to be, wherever you decide to move to, I’ll always be hot on his trail…And I will never let you go, my dear!’

Was it a sneer that could be seen passing briefly over his face? He really seemed to be the only person who was apparently content with the situation in the middle of all those heartbroken people…

The End

Last edited by Jim Statton on June 03, 2018, 08:25:22 AM, edited 1 time in total.

On the great wall of Kindra, next to the sea of Gallorie, and under the three moons of Sptar, Roger Gates sat enjoying the fresh breeze and warm sunlight as he looked at the blue-sandy shore. His thoughts raced through time. His paycheck—well being away from earth for five years? Well that paycheck would be out-of-this world, so to speak. Plus emergency pay, lost-in-space pay and after three years combat pay included. I wonder what the new Harleys look like—thoughts that danced around the mental image that Roger held showcasing a Harley. However, that imagine became a blur and faded more and more as thoughts of Cindy pushed out the Harley.

“I’ll be back,” Roger said.

“Why can’t I go with you,” Cindy said.

“We’ve been over this many times-----you don’t know our society. I’m afraid for you on earth,” Roger said.

Another cool breeze found them both and cascaded around the couple. A sand bird chirped, it chirped again before it ran along the shore seeking a stone crab that also scamped but failed to outrace the sand bird. The breeze changed direction, and blew Cindy’s hair over the side of her face, its long, silk-like strands wavered with the breeze as if they talked and didn’t agreed on today.

“I nursed you back to health after you crashed. I took care of you until you could walk again—I did all these things for you—yet you shove me away! Why?” Cindy said.

“I’m not shoving you . . . ,” Roger said.

Cindy slid off the wall then slowly walked over to the sea. Boy she is beautiful, Roger thought. Cindy touched the water with her toe and stared into its depth. The sea of Gallorie seemed to call her, Roger thought. If only things were meant to be, but this was never meant to happen, no---serendipity didn’t loose its meaning even out in a space-time universe. Can I go back without her? I have my duty to think about. My parents, my family my nephews and nieces and Rambo my dog? Yet----my God, this is one of the secrets of the universe that was never imagined or----well, how could it be planned for? Again thoughts raced though Roger’s mind, thoughts that could never be answered—how he knew that now.

“I want to thank you again, Roger. You have greatly helped us with that hydrogen water separator. Your civilization is more advance than ours,” Karlitan said.

“It was nothing. Your people saved my life, I owe you so much more,” Roger said.

“We are not that much different from you. We share similar organs, walk upright, have the same mental make up as far as our doctors can determine. Whoever seeded the universe spread the same seeds on earth as was spread on Sptar.”

“Yes, I believe that now. Except for skin tones, and hair colors and of course cultures, we are just about the same,” Roger added.

“We can contact one of your scout ships now. With your technology of power generation that you helped us reverse engineer from your ship, we can booster the communicators to reach your scout ships, I’m sure,” Kalitan said.

Roger looked at Cindy walk along the shore. She didn’t look back. She slowly walked feeling the water over the feet and catching the sea breeze that found her easily now. Her soft, blue-toned shin beamed a sadness the Roger knew all too well. Of all the things to encounter in space—why is the most talked about and written about emotion in literature and Shakespearian plays the hardest thing to conquer in space!

Roger stared at the sea. He didn’t see it but he kept looking at the undulating waves, and the wind fish jumping out, the piersota birds shimming over it, but the feeling that Cindy radiated beamed above everything, and he finally settled on his only course of action now.

“Karlitan, don’t ever send a signal out in space,” Roger said.

“As you wish, you will have a prominent position on the governing council, I’m sure about that since the people think so highly of you,” Karlitan said.

Karlitan looked at Roger then nodded his head toward Cindy.

Roger walked down to the sea. Cindy didn’t see him at first, but Roger spoke before he reached her. His words, “Cindy, you said that your father will give us that dwelling overlooking the sea. Will he still do that?”

Before any words reached Roger’s ears, Cindy was already hugging him with a warm and secure hug was would never be broken!

My momma died when I was young. She passed away just before my eleventh birthday during the winter. It seems like a million years ago now, many memories fading but there's one that stands out in my mind.

As a family, momma and I were very close, though she was very much on the overprotective side. I was her baby and she always made sure I had a roof over my head, good clothes to wear and plenty of good homecooked meals to eat. Although money wasn't plentiful, we always had what we needed. As a child I remember going to the store for just a loaf of bread and a pack of baloney and somehow that made me feel rich. Having just the base needs being met made me feel rich, even though I knew we weren't.

Momma always worked in some kind of restaurant type job for as long as I could remember. Even though there wasn't money to buy extravagant things, there's one possession that stands out in my memory that meant something to her.

I don't remember where she purchased it but she bought a beautiful birthstone ring with my birthstone, an amethyst,as the center stone. Though I was just a child, she told me that when she passed on that it would be mine. When momma died, my brother, who was much older than me, made sure that the ring was tucked away until I was old enough to wear it.

Several years later, after I'd turned eighteen, my brother got me a job as a grocery cashier at the store where he worked. By this time he had given me momma's prized ring because I was now old enough to wear it.The only problem was that it was a little loose, well actually quite a bit loose, but I still decided to wear it anyway.

One day I wore it to work. As a cashier, I also had to bag my orders if there wasn't a bagboy available. At the end of that long day I realized that my ring was gone, having probably come off in a bag as I bagged someone's groceries. No one ever bothered to return it. But I know in my heart that's what happened to it.

To anyone reading this, let this be a lesson. If you have someone or something that is precious to you, protect it and hold it close to your heart, don't take it for granted and never let it go.

It was a sunny afternoon of New Year’s Eve. The old year was almost dead. Jack was dull and lovesick, hanging around alone in their compound. It was like all hope and aspiration of the coming year was vanishing within his despondent soul and dying with the old year. The future he had visualised was becoming dim. The world he had started building was crumbling. He was becoming feeble and all his strength banished. Obviously, he was in a phone conversation. His friend, Rolland, was around, wondering, what was happening. Juliet had just called. Jack dropped the call, and tears rolled down his cheeks. “What could be happening?” Rolland imagined. He walked straight to him. . .

“Jack, what is the problem?” he questioned, looking at him with empathy. He placed his right hand on his left shoulder. “You didn’t answer me, Friend, what is the problem?”

Poor Jack, he has vowed before never again to give out his heart to any woman in love affairs due to his past experience. But the presence of Juliet in his life has given him a new hope that something good can still come out of his Nazareth.

As young as Jack was, at 18, he had tasted many sorrows. Bereaved of mother at 7, abandon by his father who ran away with another woman at 9, from that time he had been exposed to life of struggle. He did all type of menial jobs to earn his living. Hawking sachet water or sometimes, fruits, in the street of Lagos, many times, when he could not find someone to engage him in menial job, he ended the day with nothing in his bowel with such hope that the following day would be better. Despite those struggles, Jack was such a brilliant and serious minded student. But something was missing in his life – he needed a touch of love. A boy who had been neglected from childhood, he needed another smile not his, he needed somebody around him, to share his burden with. So Jane came into his life around that time and promised to always love and be with him. Apart from the fact that Jack was good looking, his academic excellence was also the magnet that pulled Jane to him and their friendship was serious. By that time Jack became very buoyant and lively. Their friendship later metamorphosed to love relationship that broke apart when it got the peak. The end of their love affairs was the day Jane wrote him a letter, informing him that his love had faded away in her heart and that he shouldn’t bother himself to persuade her. Jack had seen lovers ending love like a failed contract before but he never thought it could happen to him plus the fact that he had trusted so much in her. So, Jack eventually returned to his forlorn way of life as it was in the beginning and promised never to love again.

Juliet was a cheerful girl who has been admiring Jack secretly for a long time. She has been noticing his predicament and was looking for ways to get his attention though the later wasn’t paying any attention, yet she vowed to win him to herself. Jack had withdrawn his love for everything and pulled all on his studies. He was serious all the time with his books alone and nothing more. But Juliet has vowed and never would she compromise. Like she said –

“I’ll make him drink the true water of loveI’ll make him swim in the very ocean of loveI’ll heal his plagued spirit with the spring from my heartI’ll make his life colourful again”

Truly, she made it happen and Jack began to see colours in life again. Juliet was a wonderful lover with her sparkling beauty. To say the fact, Juliet was the girl that Jack needed in his life. Her love was natural and true. They do all things together, from playing, to reading and eating and everything. The duo made people jealous of them and one would wonder a melancholic spirited Jack suddenly turned bubbly, like Juliet had infected him with her spirit. But throughout these times, the secret fear of Jack was that Juliet would not just wake up one day and write him a letter that she is not interested in the relationship again. So he called her one day and the both vowed to love each other till life after death. He held her hand looking into her eyes with a weary spirit. . .

“Juliet, promise me you will not leave me alone.”

“C’mon Jack, you are too pessimistic, don’t ever think about that.”

“But my spirit is becoming fearful, Juliet.”

“Ok, Jack, be assured of this, even though the sun stops to shineAnd stars and the moon from the sky be darkenedOur love will illuminate the earthLet the heavens, the earth pass awayAnd let all other planets cease to beI’ll build my world with you, till life after deathForever with you my love shall be.”

With those words, Jack spirit was lifted and became confident. But that sunny afternoon of New Year’s Eve, was the day Jack entered into another life of despair. Few days to that time, Juliet had been avoiding him, but she came reluctantly clear when she called that day that she would not be able to continue with Jack anymore. She begged and made him understood that her decision was beyond her control. Juliet actually came from the spirit world and she had been called to return due to her carelessness to fall in love with son of man. He made him understood it wasn’t intentional and that was the end.

Maria later came begging for his gentle love, but “it is too late” Jack concluded. “I’ve given my love to someone and would never withdraw it again for another woman to trample.”

Bribes work on local corrupt government officials. Actually, they work in all facets of the animal kingdom.

A male bird will bribe a female bird he is trying to win over, with a fancy nest he built to entice her, or some tasty tidbit of food.

Human males and females bribe each other on an almost daily basis. “Honey, I washed the dishes tonight.”

“Oh, that’s nice dear. Are you feeling ill?”

“No… Uhm, though I was wondering if you’d file off the black mold on my toenails?”

(silence, and then the answer…) “No. But I want youto file off mine…”

“Sigh…”

And so it is. A world of life filled with a world of enticement, attraction, pheromones, or in reality… bribes. Are these things nothing more than a definition of love?

***

In school, he/she was a very shy person. Eating alone. Singing alone. Dancing alone. Dreaming alone. He/she observed though. And for the sake of sanity, the ‘he/she’ in this story will go by the name of Ti.

Now Ti was not a normal person by any means. No, Ti was a living storm, a cyclone if you will, of whirling winds of emotions. Ti was so sensitive that every comment regarding Ti was analyzed endlessly until an acceptable result arrived that Ti was able to live with…

Sadness was very natural to Ti, but so too, the happiness of the simple world of reality called, life. Of course human interactions were very hard to reveal just what made up the persona of Ti… And while other humans engaged in the simple banters of anger and love, Ti just sat aside and observed. And this is how the life of Ti existed. That is, until he/she met he/she…

Again, for the sake of sanity, this new character in the story of love will be called, Tii. And Tii was the mirror image of Ti, though of the opposite gender.

It was love at first sight for Ti and Tii. Two peas in a pod with everything to match except physical traits. Of course the readers might be smart enough to understand what is written though highly unlikely to even come close to the feeling of love the two had for each other. Though, some will try, they will fail to understand a love that does not even exist in the natural world of Earth.

Sadly though, since Ti and Tii were so alike, the sensitivities were amplified to such extremes, even the Sun laughed, and the Sun rarely laughs when it pertains to the stupidity of humans.

Ti was in love, a very deep love. And so, Ti expressed it and was promptly rejected at every turn by Tii. Rejection is such a strong word. Almost final in nature, yet for all the feelings of rejections, the Winds spoke otherwise.

Now for those of you who do not understand one bit of this story, you’re going to be really confused now, but that’s okay. You’re just human and most probably think love is something where a man offers flowers to his lover, be they a man or woman. And of course, you’d be totally wrong.

No. The Winds speak, the insects speak, the tree’s speak, all Life speaks… Only, most humans can’t hear it. Ti and Tii could hear it though. They could hear it very well. And it’s amazing that birds, bears, bee’s, even the Moon understands love more than most humans, and why? Because Life is simple to understand if you open your heart.

And now the enigma, the crux of the problem, the simple problem of two people in love so deep it actually caused the Sun to laugh! And that problem was, both were afraid of being hurt.

Not strange as Earth is a very dangerous and hurtful environment for creatures in love. Earth has a history going back to the time it was created, showing just how hurtful it is. And while some of you readers minds are complete mush when it comes to what is really important, I’m now going to make your eyes glaze over.

Who did humans kill that loves them dearly? Of course the answer is Jesus. Yes, Jesus. A God. A perfect human, was killed by this world. Your ancestors, you, and you, and you… You killed him and yet you say you love, and in a way, you do. But not a love like Ti and Tii.

This story is about Ti and Tii. Two people deep in love. One with the words of, “I love you.” And the other saying, “I don’t love you.”

Are you starting to understand the clues now? Some are, many readers though have not even made it this far in the story. They have already voted for the story where an elf falls in loves with a mushroom.

So, how does the story end? Well, the simple and true answer is, a story never ends, and a story dealing with true love, a Love so powerful that one experiencing it will never, ever be the same… And so, this story does not have, ‘The End’. No, this story will continue for as long as there are people like Ti and Tii. As such…

Wow! This is well written. The author creates a world within a flash word count that is easily visualized as if it is a place I've been to and remembered. The story has a Romeo and Juliet feel to it and yet it has it's own identity.

The details about the slugs set up the mishap that took Charlie's life and his chance for happiness. The phrase, "He who hesitates is lost" surely applies to this story's premise.

Once again, I was impressed with this author's ability to world build and in so few words.

***

Jolene Wilkerson - Baby, Please Don't Go

This is a touching story about the loyalty of a dog who senses the pain from her female master and determines to stay with her at all costs. The author captures the desperation of the battered woman and the heart wrenching decision she had to make to be safe.

I felt the emotion on this story. It brought tears to my eyes. I'm glad to have experienced it.

When a writer can not only show emotion through words, but can evoke it in the reader, they have a special ability.

***

Robin B. Lipinski - I Love You

This author has a strong voice for social commentary. Using anything at his disposal and armed with allegory and wit, he shreds conventional thinking to share his vision to the reader.

He moves with ease from topic to topic as he writes this essay story in a second person point of view. The story addresses the reader as if they are a character in the story using words such as you, your and yours.

When an author writes in first person, they use words such as I and me whereas writing in third person the writer uses words like he and she.

I see this as an interesting work of experimental writing, which I am a fan of doing myself. Where are you going to find a better place to learn than right here.

***

Sergio Palumbo - Rain At a Funeral

This story is easy to experience as it is read from the heavy description used to illustrate the scene and characters involved. This dark comedy has an edge to it.

There is one overriding point to the story, "Don't go out with the pretty blonde haired woman named Nadezhda." The life expectancy of her dates is like being introduced to Jessica Fletcher from Murder She Wrote. After the first hello, expect a piano to fall from the sky. Or even worse if you're a woman, marry a Cartwright or a Barkley.

As the story progresses, we find a sinister worker from the shadows knocking off her gentleman callers.

You got to read this!

***

Olatubosun David - Damaged Beyond Repair

The main character suffered a laundry list of troubles from childhood. He could not catch a break. His grief was amplified by Juliet who didn't want to give him the time of day. The story successfully paints Jack as a man who just attracts trouble. So this is the base of the story.

But in spite of all his problems, Jack had a lot going for him. Smart, attractive to women he met someone else and began to bounce back. But it wasn't long before that relationship flopped as well.

The author has interesting turn of phrases which makes his story somewhat stylized.

Then we see Juliet again and she's making a play for him once more. But that fell through and by the time another woman entered into his life, he was unwilling to take another chance.

He was probably better off.

***

Twilight Zee - Ring Around My Heart

An object of affection, a ring given to the author by her mother was something adored. But because it was too loose, it was lost and irretrievable. It was one of those life things that happen to all of us. Sometimes it leaves deep scares even though it was a material thing instead of a person.

This sound like it was an autobiography retelling in first person. I liked the author's voice in this story based on a memory. It had a good feeling to it.

***

Megawatts - Some Things Can’t Be Planned For

A space adventure with interesting creative elements to make it unique from Earth. The author created such things as sand birds and wind fish - these I'd like to see - and a blue skin girlfriend named Cindy, a native of the place where Roger was working.

Roger had a decision to make, to give up a great job or go to live with his girlfriend in a dwelling given to them by her father. The internal conflict gave the story a suspenseful feeling.

Interesting.

***

Jim Statton - Never Do Business With Stupid People

I started out making most of the story told through dialogue, but on the second draft, I added expository and descriptive wording. This story could have been easily titled, "Waiting for the Other Shoe."

We've all had times when nothing could go right. When you come across people who just don't understand no matter how hard you try, the answer is simple...run!

Last edited by Jim Statton on June 04, 2018, 08:32:50 AM, edited 1 time in total.

Interesting how topics of love often cause friction in a readers mind.When working as a Marine U.S. embassy guard I conducted nightly security sweeps for 'stuff' and found the humor when searching desks of female staff... Most of the books they read while hard at work (remember, this was before the smart phone and computer, people actually read books) were romantic and dealt with romance, love, and of course, sex.

Now, as a comparable, none of the desks belonging to those male staff held any books other than the random intellectual having books of the recreation variety dealing with westerns or science. However, males far outweighed females when it came to magazines, especially magazines full of porn. Interesting how two genders look at 'love'.

Why write this? Well, this contest dealt with love and as a reader, I was not impressed. Why? Because I can feel that way. And, since I've read a lot of stories by the various authors that have submitted stories in the past, I strongly feel they all dropped the ball, with one exception that being I truly enjoyed the story submitted by, Olatubosun David - Damaged Beyond Repair.

Actually, as a writer, it would be interesting to have this exact same premise again with the same authors trying again. It would be curious to see, or then again, knowing humans, maybe this is all that can be expected. Love after all, is one of the most beautiful traits of humanity, and at the same time, its worst.

But, to be a critic is to critique and not just say, "Oh, how lovely!" especially when not seeing it that way. However, (all these caveats one is now forced to use in a modern PC world) However, it IS nice that the contests exist and people take the time to write and submit their work for scrutiny and critique by such as I. So, 'good' job to all and to those powers that exert time and energy to allow such activity.

Lipinski wrote:But, to be a critic is to critique and not just say, "Oh, how lovely!" especially when not seeing it that way. However, (all these caveats one is now forced to use in a modern PC world) However, it IS nice that the contests exist and people take the time to write and submit their work for scrutiny and critique by such as I. So, 'good' job to all and to those powers that exert time and energy to allow such activity.

Different people comment from different perspectives. I and others like Megawatts are glad for the act of writing and see the beauty and the praiseworthy aspects of a story - all things said being true - and others look for ways to help the author improve their writing. Some do both.

There are outstanding stories here worthy of being read and commented upon. There are 6 days remaining to do that in.

Nice intro to the moon and its slugs. Guys used to join the navy to get away in the old days, but Charlie joined a ‘Slug harvesting farm’ to get away. The company gives ‘cubes’ to help with the long isolation—a mood stimulate I believe. Charlie is in turmoil with his inability to get Nadia’s love. He kills himself hoping to be near Nadia as he dies. Good dialogue and we have sensory input suggesting that Charlie will smell Nadia as he lies on his death bed.

Baby, Please Don't Go by Jolene Wilkerson

I like he beginning as it grabbed my attention with ‘My stub of a tail wagged at the sight of her!” Good one. I loved everything about this story! Seeing the ills of a beer drinking-woman-hitting man though the eyes of a dogs is interesting. And how Diesel loved her—one trait that I always loved about dogs. They are mans/ woman’s best friends. The sentence “I licked my lips which meant “absolutely” could be more emphatic by deleting absolutely. I licked my lips! Would have worked just fine. I really love this one!!! Great job!!

Never Do Business With Stupid People by Jim Stattonm

Good beginning. Love ‘soap opera of a marriage.’ This story is clean and follows a classical pattern of love and a wife’s obedience but one that went too far. I’m sure a story similar to this one is real, somewhere today or in the past. Business is highly competitive, and many will go to extremes for profit----even using their wives or daughters to get ahead. I seen that first hand when I worked of public utility! I seen guys do anything to get a ‘White Hat.’ Good job on this one, and what I like is the story might be flash fiction, but it depicts reality. Good job!!

Rain At a Funeral by Sergio Palumbo

I like the Edgar Allen Poe intro describing a funeral procession from the church to the cemetery. Classical setting but the story takes off into the twisted mind of a man out to control and get back the love he lost. Interior monologue shines in this one, for its show how adamant Vsevolod is to be in Nadezhda life—one way or the other! Another thing I like is the name. Vsevolod suggest Russian, and with the way he murders Nadezhda’s men, it further suggest that he’s former K.G.B.! Nice! I don’t know whether the author intended it or not but it shows. Great Job!

Ring Around My Heart by Twilight Zee

A short one but warmhearted. A good point made in this one. His mom must have been a great mother----the story indicate that for she worked as a waitress but managed to take care of her kids. Many moms do that today, and they should be honored for their dedication. I heard a corporate executive bitch about how nobody wants to work today when he spends many hours on the golf course during working hours, then returns to a meeting in which they discuss who should have used a different club. Many waitress work three jobs, 60 to 80 hours a week!!! When I told the corporate executive that, he replied the he was payed for what he knows, in so many words!! That has always been a sore spot for me, when I heard someone being put down----especially when nobody understand to cares about their situation in life! This is a great story that gets a underlining point across! Great Job!!!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Damaged Beyond Repair by Olatubosun David

Nice intro. Good description of Jack and his perils with the women in his life. Jane the first—his mother’s love had been taken away when Jack was very young. Jane feel out of love with Jack. That happens. Juliet comes from the spirit world. That is interesting, and again Jack suffers at a lost love, but in which Juliet still loves him but can not be with him. Good dialogue and good use of words. I like the poems in this story for they convey a true feeling of love. The story was composed in such a way that I could feel Jack and identify with his emotions and how they affected his life in school and at trying to find another love. Hopefully, Maria will be the one, but the story suggest that Jack’s fate could go either way. Nice job!

I like this intro----bribes in the animal kingdom! Very good attention grabbing dialogue during the begiinning and a technique that I’m going to remember. The use of TI as a neutral gender I thought wouldn’t work, but it did. When dealing with emotion, so much is involved that Shakespear couldn’t describe to the fullest how Romeo and Juliet loved each other! The author touches on the common emotions between a male and a female with good understandings. When we try to get into the depth of love, the reasons for love, the wants of love, well, then thing complicated. Good job! Love from a macro direction and see just the surface!

I don’t have time to comment on all of them. Maybe I will come back and post more comments. Right now I will comment on the stories that stood out for me.

Charlie WilsonI think the “I can’t make you love me” is a two-way street for two of the characters in this story: Charlie feels abandoned but so does the HER of the story. She couldn’t get Charlie to read the postal coin! I think HER intentions are made clear by her actions at the end of the story. She didn’t abandon him in the end.

Baby , Please Don’t GoI really liked this story. Very well written, especially from the perspective of the main character. The shift in knowlege of who the character was made this story interesting. Several layers of lost love, bad love, etc. I can’t make you love me? For Baby she couldn’t get his husband/boyfriend to treat her well (which you would do if you really loved someone). But there was one “person” in her life that could!

I Love YouVery well written. The writing and tone/voice of this story is so strong that the story glides in the telling. It had me chuckling, too (like the Sun). A matter/anti-matter version of the ‘I can’t make you love me’ theme! Intellectually creative....

This was some contest. The votes were coming in slow earlier in the week, but a few days later, they came pouring in.

Out of 15 votes cast and by a significant margin, Michele Dutcher is the winner of the "I Can't Make You Love Me" flash fiction writing contest. I was impressed by this writer's technical savvy as well as her world building talent.

Jolene Wilkerson was a close second throughout the voting. What she lacked in writing technical ability, she made up in heart. Emotional resonance seems to be an ongoing trait in her writing.

Sergio Palumbo and Olatubosun David finished in a strong third place. I'm always expecting to see a movie version of each and every Sergio story. Powerful concepts and story development. Olatubosun had a lot of story in under a thousand words. I think this was the first Shakespearean type tragedy we've seen in these contests.

Megawatts story has a good feeling to it. With more readers, I'm sure he would have had more votes.

Twilight Zee, Robin Lipinski and I did not do so well this time. I knew when I finished writing my story, that it was soooo not going to fly. But I was glad to have had time to play with it. Twilight and Robin wrote important themes.

The experiment is going most excellent and the results absolutely stellar.

Of this there is no doubt.

To the readers, great job! You are predictable beyond your wildest dreams.To the writers, you did the best with what you are so in your world of words, great job!To Jim, thanks for the efforts and time spent providing such contests.

The experiment is going most excellent and the results absolutely stellar.

Of this there is no doubt.

To the readers, great job! You are predictable beyond your wildest dreams.To the writers, you did the best with what you are so in your world of words, great job!To Jim, thanks for the efforts and time spent providing such contests.

It is a good day.

There is NO experiment, but some of these statements seem like back-handed compliments.

You must follow the few simple rules to participate in these contests such as...

Rules For Commenting:

02. Never say anything negative about the authors themselves.

I don't want to get into a tit-for-tat posting with you on this, just don't be condescending.

Last edited by Jim Statton on June 10, 2018, 01:32:25 PM, edited 2 times in total.

Thank y'all very much for voting for my story. I peek over here at your flash contest from time to time, but usually can't think of anything to write. When I saw 'break our hearts'...I knew I could do that. Charlie Wilson was a real person I knew 20 years ago. He asked me to read this letter from his exwife and then decided against it. The setting was space, but the plot was absolutely true as written. Thanks again, Michele Dutcher

bottomdweller wrote:Thank y'all very much for voting for my story. I peek over here at your flash contest from time to time, but usually can't think of anything to write. When I saw 'break our hearts'...I knew I could do that. Charlie Wilson was a real person I knew 20 years ago. He asked me to read this letter from his exwife and then decided against it. The setting was space, but the plot was absolutely true as written. Thanks again, Michele Dutcher

I really hope you join in again. I'm still reading your story to glean writing nuances from it.

The experiment is going most excellent and the results absolutely stellar.

Of this there is no doubt.

To the readers, great job! You are predictable beyond your wildest dreams.To the writers, you did the best with what you are so in your world of words, great job!To Jim, thanks for the efforts and time spent providing such contests.

It is a good day.

There is NO experiment, but some of these statements seem like back-handed compliments.

You must follow the few simple rules to participate in these contests such as...

Rules For Commenting:

02. Never say anything negative about the authors themselves.

I don't want to get into a tit-for-tat posting with you on this, just don't be condescending.

***(silence)

Writing with words sets the reader up for self-interpretation. So, how would a reader consider my original post? Harsh? Humorous? Dry? Upsetting? Complimentary?

As a writer I have my own agenda with words. As a reader I have my own agenda in interpretation.

I wrote earlier in this thread that I, as a reader, felt the authors based on their past work did not do as well in this premise.

To continue, my comment for the stories is not meant to inflict conflict or angst, rather it is to be honest. In this world of 'like' and "oh that is wonderful," constantly, is not a part of my experiment. Yes, my experiment, and I must say it is spot on as the hypothesis is truly being proven true.

I'm very secure as a writer as such, my story for this premise was written to actually cause unease in people reading (again, all a part of the experiment), a part of the experiment, and for general consumption, fell faaaaar short of being remotely good...(*remember the original post where I said: all writers? Now, if any authors wondering about their story being the best they could do according to their, than bravo! Good job!

So yes Jim, you definitely read my post in the way you desired and wanted. A yes, Jim, you are definitely a part of the experiment. And as I said, great job!

Lipinski wrote:Writing with words sets the reader up for self-interpretation. So, how would a reader consider my original post? Harsh? Humorous? Dry? Upsetting? Complimentary?

As a writer I have my own agenda with words. As a reader I have my own agenda in interpretation.

I wrote earlier in this thread that I, as a reader, felt the authors based on their past work did not do as well in this premise.

To continue, my comment for the stories is not meant to inflict conflict or angst, rather it is to be honest. In this world of 'like' and "oh that is wonderful," constantly, is not a part of my experiment. Yes, my experiment, and I must say it is spot on as the hypothesis is truly being proven true.

I'm very secure as a writer as such, my story for this premise was written to actually cause unease in people reading (again, all a part of the experiment), a part of the experiment, and for general consumption, fell faaaaar short of being remotely good...(*remember the original post where I said: all writers? Now, if any authors wondering about their story being the best they could do according to their, than bravo! Good job!

So yes Jim, you definitely read my post in the way you desired and wanted. A yes, Jim, you are definitely a part of the experiment. And as I said, great job!

If you have some personal experiment, do not communicate it in a way that appears I'm apart of it.

When you communicate in these contest threads, - do not - speak to writers in a condescending tone - like this is all some activity to satisfy your curiosity and that I'm apart of it.

This is a place to "encourage" writers, but only in truthful statements of where they do well. Instructive comments are welcome.